Because roses for Valentine's Day are cliché.
Alex, my girlfriend of 14 months, is unmoved by all holidays, but the lion's share of her indifference is reserved for Valentine's Day. While I shudder at the thought of sitting down to a prix fixe menu at a white tablecloth restaurant or any of the other set-piece activities we're urged to take part in to commemorate a dissident Roman priest from the third century, I've somehow also managed to feel some vestigial guilt when, in the past, I've ignored the day completely.
I've since decided that if I'm going to do Valentine's Day, it needs to be commemorated in a way that is bespoke, authentic, practical, irreverent, and ironic. That's why Kenneth Play has braved the cold to come to my apartment. At my request, he's here to teach Alex and me how to fuck each other better. What better way to celebrate the day—and thumb our noses at an increasingly prudish and uneducated America—than with a round of advanced sex ed?
As luck would have it, Alex and I both feel and agree that we do a top-notch job already, but it seemed foolhardy not to explore what a highly esteemed professional sex coach could do for us. Not least because I've personally witnessed Kenneth transform a room full of non-squirting women into squirters and their partners into female-ejaculation facilitators at one of his "PlayLabs," a group sex ed event he hosts every month or so. That particular scene became a fleshy, moaning, groaning, dancing fountain with people literally, then figuratively, gushing over the "sex hacks" the former fitness competitor imparted. What's on tap for Alex and me tonight is a Private PlayLab, which is ordinarily priced at a princely $1,000 for a three-hour session. Kenneth has offered us his counsel on the house. Some people have friends who'll fix their car or do their taxes gratis (especially if they then write an article about it). It's like that.
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